


It's You

by make_this_feel_like_home



Series: Something Great [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_this_feel_like_home/pseuds/make_this_feel_like_home
Summary: Zayn Malik is a straight shooter. He always tells it like it is, much to everyone else's dismay.  He's a tattoo artist and totally comfortable in his life where his best friend is his ex and his whole world revolves around infinity symbols. It only fits that when he's faced with the biggest challenge of his adult life—Liam Payne—that he'd face it head on. No fear. No excuses.A Zayn/Liam parallel from my story Baby, I'm Perfect.orThe one where Zayn is a straight guy who falls for Liam instantly and without any worries.





	

"You owe me 50 pounds, Perrie, and I expect you'll pay up!" I announced as I walked to the front desk after my last client finished paying. 

She groaned, and I didn't think I knew another person in the world who hated being wrong as much as Perrie did.  

At the beginning of the year I'd made everyone in the tattoo shop I worked at a bet that I would beat last year's record of infinity symbol tattoos (I'd done 98 last year). Everyone bet on a number and Perrie had bet that I couldn't top 150 ( _this year is all about the flock of birds, Zayn_ ), and today marked my 151st infinity symbol. Victory was sweet.  

I'd known Perrie since my first year in London. She'd been in my art history class and we'd always clicked. She was my best friend these. We'd dated for a long time, and one day she'd rolled over to me and told me she loved me but she wasn't in love with me anymore. I mean, could have been hurt or something, but what was the point? I couldn't make her love me. There was really no point to dwell on it, because she might have been the one who noticed it first, but we were dead in the sheets and friends in the streets by that point anyway.  

So, against the advice that everyone had given me _(you can't be friends with your ex, Zayn_ ) Perrie and I had been able to keep our love. I felt like that was a solid win for us. Most people didn't take my abrasiveness as well as she did ( _Perrie that dude's a fuckboy, you're going to get syphilis_ ). But she told me frequently that she appreciated my honesty, so I kept her around. I'd even gotten her a job when the shop I worked at needed a receptionist. So, we weren't in love anymore, but she was the person in the world I was the closest with.  

"I'll make you a deal," she began. 

"I'm not interested in a deal, I'm interested in _money_ ," 

She rolled her eyes, "come out tonight, I'll pay for your drinks," 

I shook my head in the negative and squeezed her cheeks as she tried to win me over with a pout. I didn't fall for _anyone's_ pout. Surely she knew that. 

"But Zayn, I wanna dance and Tyler wants to dance!" 

Perrie had been dating her 45th fuckboy of the year for about 3 weeks now and it was exhausting. I'd consumed more alcohol lately trying to keep up with the frat-boy child and all of his frieds. I was tired of it. Surely she was going to move on soon. I couldn't handle drinking like this anymore. Saturday night or not, I was definitely _not_ going to a club tonight.  

"I remember when you were fun," she whined.  

"And I remember when you dated people your own age," 

"We're going to the club tonight. There's girls at clubs, there's drinks at clubs. I can't handle the thought of you wasting a perfectly good saturday watching Netflix again." 

 

I suppose I was a push over—but I didn't like to think of it that way. I liked to think of myself as more of a master negotiator. Instead of going to the club, I'd somehow convinced Perrie to bring her frat boy and his friends to my flat for a good, old fashioned house party. I liked controlled situations like this more. I got to pick the music, my bed was never far away should the need to sleep, or get laid arise. Tyler promised to bring lots of girls, but I wasn't really my thing. I was looking for someone with substance, not fistfulls of 18 and 19 year olds who wanted to fawn over my _perfect_ eyelashes. I needed more stimulating conversation.  

Since Perrie and I had ended, I'd had more girlfriends than names I could really remember ( _oops?_ ). It was kind of an ever-revolving door of flash in the pan relationships that kept me occupied. I was never bored—so at least there was that. People bored me, though, most of the time. I had a knack for digging hard and finding the really fucked up parts of people and, kind of studying them? I understood people easily. They were always so anti-clamatic. I got bored by them easily, especially when I dug and realized that most people were really two dimensional. 

I probably could have made millions by becoming a shrink and getting my own TV show, like Dr. Phil but, I'd gone the art route (much to my parent's dismay). Being London's most renowned infinity symbol tattoo artist wasn't the life they'd seen for me. Which was fine. I got it. Art was never the path that parents wanted their kids to follow ( _you're so smart, Zayn, take some business classes)._ I wasn't meant to fit in a mold though, that could have never been me. It wouldn't have mattered if my parents had promised to buy me 6 cars and a mansion for getting a BA in business, I never would have gone for it. Art was in my heart (ha) and that was that. It was who I was.  

And besides that, who were they to assume that taking art was the opposite of smart? They couldn't even tell a cool red from a warm— _they_ were the hopeless ones.  

Perrie always praised me for being the most insanely well-adjusted 24 year old out there because I knew 100% who I was, and I didn't make a single excuse for it. I let myself feel every feeling that I got a whim of, and I spoke my mind 110% of the time. This made me simultaneously the most loved person in some people's lives (read: Perrie) and the biggest asshole out there on mostly everyone else's list. It normally took people more than one meeting to warm up to me. Which was fine. I didn't make a point surround myself with people I felt half-heartedly about.  

It was almost 9 and I knew that Perrie and Tyler and scads of uni kids were going to be at my flat soon, but I couldn't quite bring myself to care just yet. I was in the middle of painting—had been since I got home from work. I flicked my brush across the canvas absently. I approached painting like I approached most things in my life—that is to say completely calmly and casually and without fear. As a teenager, back homein Bradford, I'd been the most distinguished graffiti artist in town. I'd covered trains, rocks, old buildings and the occasional billboard. No one ever knew it was me, but I'd always seen my work posted online and critiqued in new articles.  

It was kind of the perfect description of teenaged Zayn—bold, individualistic, and completely unseen. No, I wasn't the sort to complain about the horrors of my teenaged years. All the alientation that I had experienced had been one hundred percent self-inflicted. I mean, what art kid does fit in in high school? Its not like being a social reject was some kind of revolutionary thing that I had experienced. I had always been okay with it though. I'd never really wanted scads of friends that I didn't care about. I got good grades in all my classes and got a scholarship to uni. That mattered to me more than superficial friendships destined to die the first month after graduation.

My phone rang then, as I brushed orange across the center of my painting (I'd been really into browns and oranges lately). I looked at the caller ID and saw it was my mum. I sighed and picked it up.  

"Hey Mum," I greeted absently, still more focused on my painting.  

"Zayn," she said, "what are you doing, love?" 

"Painting, nothing special," 

She sighed softly, "I miss you, darling," 

"You too, mum," I dipped my brush back into the brown and swirled it with the orange.  

"How have you been?" 

"Good. Great. Just tattooed my 151st infinity symbol today," 

She didn't feign excitement, "have you thought about those night classes, the marketing ones your dad and I were looking at?" 

"Nope," 

"Zayn," she had both a warning and disappointment in her tone. 

"Mum," I said dismissively.  

"I worry about you," 

"I wouldn't," 

"I just want to see you succeed," 

I couldn't for the life of me remember how many hundreds of times my mum and I had danced this same exact dance.  

"Do you ever get bored of asking me the same three questions?" 

Apparently she didn't, because she moved on to her next favourite topic, "How's Perrie?" 

"Good. Dating a man-child, but fine," 

"Zayn," there was that longing in her voice. I loved my mum. I really did. She wanted the best for me, but her and my father had a very narrow vision of what that entailed.  

"I just worry you're lonely," 

"I know. You worry about everything," 

"I'm your mother, Zayn," she said like that wasn't the only reason I listened to her riduculous questions. "I just thought it might have all blown over by now. I liked you and Perrie together," 

"Mum, I don't love her—I mean I've told you that for two years. Its not news. She's my best mate. Stop holding out hope," 

"You were happy with her," 

"Still am,"  

"Look, love, I'd really love it if you'd give those classes a look," 

"You do realize I have a job, right?" 

"You need a career," 

"I have one of those, mum, fuck sake. I make good money, you know this," 

She sighed heavily, "a real job, Zayn. Like a real adult," 

I groaned loudly at the circles she was speaking in. This was not what I'd signed up for. This was not how I was supposed to be spending my last precious minutes before my flat was turned into a frat-house.  

"Was there anything else? Anything at all aside from my career options or lack of girlfriend that you called for? Because I'm kind of busy. Perrie and her man-child should be here any minute," 

"Goodnight, Zayn," 

"Good talk, mum," I said sarcatically before hanging up.  

I was pretty sure that parents were put on this earth to test the patience of the children they raised. There was no other way to describe the love and loathing that I felt for my parents. They were the bane of my existence, yet I couldn't quite bring it upon myself to completely shut them out. Funny thing, families, innit? 

 

It was nearly 11 when Perrie and Tyler finally showed up. A seemingly endless stream on uni kids seemed to flow in after that. There were dozens. It didn't take long before someone took everything off my table and set up beer pong. I'd regret letting that happen tomorrow when my feet stuck to the floor. I didn't mind clutter (my whole mind was clutter) but mess, I _hated_ mess. Perrie was standing next to me while I watched the kids play beer pong. I like to party, admittedly I was a bit of a party animal, but tonight I was also in a bit of a mood. I was bitter about everything and I was sure that it had to do mostly with my mother trying to make me feel inferior.  

"Did you meet Kim?" She asked conversationally. 

"I've probably met about a dozen Kims," 

"Jesus, you're salty tonight," she commented, "I meant Kim over there, the blonde. Tyler said she'd be good for you. She's smart and all that," 

I shrugged. She was pretty, yes. Exactly the sort of girl I went for, actually. She had long blonde hair and she was the kind of classic beauty that pretty much everyone chased after, right? I mean, my taste wasn't original. Even after Perrie and I had ended, I'd just dated dozens of girls who fit the same physical mold as her (I wouldn't be so cruel as to insult her by comparing personalities—to be fair, Perrie _had_ a personality, where most of the others did not). 

But, because I was a creature of habit (and because she thought I was hot—flattery got everyone everywhere) I was standing next to her. She grinned at me over her solo cup. She had green eyes and they were covered in black eyeliner. She really was gorgeous, but better yet, she was funny, a bit dorky and was actually interested in telling me about her classes. Maybe she wasn't two dimensional. I'd even be impressed for the night (or a couple of weeks) if she was 2.5 dimensional.  

"So we were learning about C Wright Mills and the Sociological Imagination in my last lecture. It was interesting. I think that Soci is going to be my major. I was undeclared when I started, but my prof is brilliant. She's really inspiring and all that," she blinked once, putting the cup back to her lips, "Sorry, I'm probably boring you," 

"Nope," I said, "I like listening to things people are passionate about. It's kind of my thing," 

She was blushing now. She was really cute. Maybe tonight wasn't going to be a complete bust.  

"I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and pointed to the balcony, "I'm gonna have a smoke, if you're interested in coming with me. I have lots of opinions on Latour," 

She was smiling and nodding and Perrie shot me a thumbs up as we walked out onto the balcony.  

Kim might have been a glorified child—I mean she was only just picking her major when I had graduated three years ago—but she was a very interesting child. We debated in a friendly way about which stream of feminism made the most sense. She knew a lot about Philosophy too—which wasn't my scene, but was still impressive regardless.  

I realized that maybe I was mucking this whole thing up by trying to get to know her too much. Tonight was supposed to be about alcohol and bad choices. Not about finding my next long(ish) term plaything. I offered her a hit off the blunt I was smoking and she happily obliged. We were laughing hysterically at a couple that were having a spat beneath my balcony. I slipped back inside a couple of times to top off our drinks and soon, the warmth of alcohol was filling my body and making me feel more than a little tipsy.  

"I never really understood art," she admitted.  

"Not much to understand really. It is what it is. Whatever you get from it, I mean that's it. Art is funny like that. A million people can look at the same thing and no one will see it the same way. Probably none of them get what the artist was trying to say either. Art is subjective, very much so. I think that's why I love it so much," 

Her eyes were sparkling at me as I spoke, her body swaying slightly from her alcohol. She leaned in and kissed me then. Which was oddly brave. I'd been considering doing that since about two drinks ago, but our conversation was distracting me. Apparently though, she was not distracted at all.  

Her kiss was soft and tentative, like she wasn't sure if I would push her away. Her lips tasted like strawberry lipgloss and her breath like gin. I kissed her back, then, taking control of it as I always felt expected to do. I gripped the back of her neck and parted her lips with my tongue. It was a kiss—what more can I really say? Kisses were always nice. She wasn't sloppy in any way. She was soft and sweet and it was _nice._ It was always nice to kiss someone new.  

When we broke apart, I reached for my pack of cigarettes, but it was empty. I sighed in annoyance. I always smoked too much when I drank. She'd been helping with it too, smoking half the pack. I leaned in and kissed her again. She sighed into the kiss like she wasn't expecting it (why, I don't know, we'd literally just spent a solid 10 minutes with our faces connected). I pulled away from her again fairly quickly.  

"Why don't you freshen our drinks and I'll run down to the store and grab some smokes and meet you back out here?" 

She nodded, "perfect," 

 

I pulled on a jumper before I flew toward the door. Perrie grabbed my arm before I walked out. She was drunk, her body weight nearly taking me out as she leaned completely on me. 

"Where are you going, buddy?" 

"Need smokes," 

"Saw you on the balcony with Kim, good lad," she praised. 

I pulled her body off of mine and grinned at her, "yeah, which is why I'm trying to get smokes as quick as possible. Wanna get laid and all that," 

She messed my hair and started to walk back toward Tyler without another word to me.  

 

My walk to the corner store was pretty uneventful. The elevator had been empty, but the streets were full of people walking in the general direction of the clubs. It was cool outside. I was freezing, honestly. I was never made for the cold. I belonged in the summer. I was waiting in line to pay for my smokes. The guy in front of me was buying 5 bags of ice and was having a hard time juggling them all in his arms. I was a bit annoyed that he was taking so long, because _I_ did still have the prospect of getting laid dangled  in front of me, and I would have much rather get to that sooner than later. I recognized the guy. I was pretty sure he lived in my building.  

"Hey," I said, and he turned to me. I definitely recognized him. Something weird settled in my stomach. "You live in 240, yeah?" 

He had light brown eyes. They were friendly. Very calming and safe. He nodded, smiling at me. I don't know why I suddenly felt so sick, but I hated myself for probably drinking too fast, "Yeah," he said. His voice was soft and calm too.  

I nodded at him, picking up two of the bags of ice, "me too," I said. 

I ordered my smokes from the guy behind the counter and paid quickly, stuffing them into my pocket.  

The guy was eyeing me up as I stood with two bags of his ice in my arms, "figured you needed a hand and we're heading to the same place anyway," 

The words were simple, and very much something I would normally do. I wasn't the sort of person who ignored other people's struggles. Plus getting him out of the way faster had benefited me by getting me out of the line faster. It was simple and should have been normal, but I felt a weird uneasiness in my stomach as he watched me.  

Finally he nodded, "Okay, cool. Thanks," 

I nodded, "proper night in shining armour, I am," it was weirdly hard to speak to him, but I didn't allow myself the pathetic defeat of reveling in awkwardness or fear. I blazed on, awkward or not.  

He laughed at my joke and held the door open for me as we walked out, "I'm Liam by the way," 

"Zayn," I said, leading the way to our building. Liam caught up quickly and kept pace beside me. I wanted to speak. I loved to speak. I hated awkward silences. I couldn't _believe_ I was allowing this one to go on for so long. Pathetic.  

"What floor are you on?" I finally choked out, making the dreadful mistake of looking over to him. He was kind of sultry—which okay, that was a really weird word to choose to describe a random guy—his hair was flawless and bounced perfectly in the quiff on top of his head. Stubble covered his cheeks and his lips were a really nice shade of pink—again, what the _fuck,_ Zayn.  

"Fifth," he said quietly, meeting my eyes in a very intense sort of gaze.  

This whole thing felt really bizarre and part of me regretted willingly throwing myself off the deep end here. This guy had to be strange. I trusted my instincts and the uneasiness was impossible to ignore. There must have been something wrong with him because he was definitely rubbing me—a strange way. It wasn't necessarily _bad,_ but it was strange and I wasn't in the mood for strange.  

"Cool," I managed, again meeting his eyes which were so _friendly._ Too friendly. Maybe bordering on naïve or something, because people weren't supposed to be this nice to a random guy who offered to help carry his ice. "You having a party or something?" I asked tentatively.  

"Yeah, actually," 

My conversation skills were really lacking and we were about another three minutes or so away from our building. I needed to think of something fast, but I could hardly focus past the sickness in the pit of my stomach. My skin prickled with it. I was probably freezing again but too buzzed to notice. Yes! That was a plan. I reached into my pocket and pulled out another joint and held it between my lips, fishing for my lighter and trying to hold both bags of ice with one arm. Before my fingers hit the lighter, Liam was holding out his own lighter. I felt ill again, but nodded and let him light it for me. I inhaled and offered him a hit.  

A smile played at the corners of his mouth, "I don't know if I should really be taking drugs from strangers. Been a lot of talk about fentanyl lately," 

I scoffed, making myself cough a bit, "trust me when I say 'fentanyl is not my scene'," 

He took it from me then, inhaling and I was left dwelling very strangely on how soft his fingers were as I'd handed it off to him? Was I more drunk than I thought? 

Thankfully, we were finally getting closer to the building, just a few more meters and I'd be free of this very strange stranger.  

"Do you want to drop by, like to the party at my place?" 

Something fluttered inside of my stomach. It was _butterflies_. _What the fuck, Zayn._ I didn't really have an appropriate response for him because I was having a really large internal crisis. Liam was _hot_. This was a fact that slapped me in the face and was honestly very overwhelming. I was kind of attracted to him? But this kind of thing... it was usually reserved for girls. Now I wasn't naïve enough to think that sexuality was something that was written in stone and followed a very black and white type of rule, but this was _me._ Surely I should have known myself a bit better. I should have at least seen this coming. I should have had some warning. This was completely weird and uncalled for and he was staring pleasantly at me while he held open the door to our building and expecting a response.  

"I, uh," I swallowed passed the lump in my throat, "there's a party at mine, with a bunch of frat boys. I probably shouldn't duck out 'case they break all my stuff..." Wow. What a really pathetic excuse. Liam actually looked disappointed. I didn't like it, so my mouth spit out more words before I even considered them, "so, I mean, if frat parties are your thing—come to mine," 

We were in the lift then, Liam pressing the 5th floor button and smiling sweetly at me. "I might consider it," he mused, "but I have to save my own party first, you know with the ice and all," 

I laughed then, "yeah, cool," 

I tapped my fingers restlessly at my thigh as the overwhelming amount of tension—was that _sexual tension(_??) _—_ threatened to suffocate me. This was weird. Like,  _really_ weird.  

Liam held my gaze, trying to set me at ease with a soothing smile, but really I was being drowned under the waves of his body heat and the sound of his breath and the proximity of myself to the whole thing. _What the fuck, Zayn._ I was keenly aware of every move he made and how my body felt standing so close to him. Thank fuck for the ice that was freezing my arms, lest I have some more even more unfortunate reactions to his breathing.  

"Surprised I haven't ran into you before," said Liam and this whole thing was so weird and so wrong. I was _not_ myself. I was not coy or shy or nervous, like, _ever._ This was a fucking crisis. There was no other way to describe it.  

"I—uh—I'm kind of nocternal? I'm that person who does groceries at 2 in the morning," it was true. Two was the best time to do groceries. No one bothered with me. Even the cashiers didn't try to make conversation at that hour. It was wonderful. I loved the night. Except for _this_ night. This night was very weird.  

And, more importantly, did Liam feel that? The pulsing heat that flowed from my body to his, from his body to mine. It was like an electrical current. Still, my hand tapped nervously on my leg. I couldn't breathe. The lift was taking _forever_ to get to his floor. Not that I knew exactly what I'd do when we did get to his flat... 

Finally the lift chimed and the doors peeled open and I was released onto the fifth floor. My legs were shaky and strange and I really wanted to feel more like myself, but this whole thing was so _random_ that I wasn't quite sure how I'd ever manage that again. I didn't know how to process what was going through me—I barely knew how to process how to move forward. That's when I realized I was frozen in front of the elevator and Liam was a few paces down the hall, staring back at me. This was embarrassing. I was a confident, secure person. Why was I acting like a 14 year old _boy_.  

"You okay?" Asked Liam, innocently, like that wasn't the biggest, heaviest possible question he could have asked.  

"I don't know," I admitted softy. There we go. That was more Zayn of me. Brutal honesty, even at my own expense.  

"Is there anything I can do?" He was so _kind._ He was confident and honestly, it was kind of cramping my style. 

"I don't know," 

Wow. Okay, so now I was a broken record. Cool.  

Liam laughed at that, "come on, Zayn, rescue the party with me," 

And I was moving forward before I thought about it. My body seemed to have some natural instinct to follow his. I'd probably walk right off a cliff if he was leading the way. This whole thing seemed a wee bit dangerous. I don't know what had come over me.  

Again, as I moved next to him there was a pulsing heat, my hands were clammy and I felt shaky. I was completely uneasy in every way that someone could possibly be uneasy. Liam stopped then, in front of a door that said 521. I hesitated once he opened it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do from here. A loud blonde man with an Irish accent met us at the door.  

"Payno!" He said, "bout fuckin' time ya cunt, I thought you'd never be back!" He grabbed the bags of ice out of Liam's hand and then furrowed his eyebrows at me, "who's that?" 

"Zayn," Liam and I said in unison.  

Liam chuckled and I felt my face flush at that. I felt so naked and stupid and I really wasn't used to this. I liked my control. Where the fuck had it gone? 

Niall nodded slowly then, "ahh, its like that then," 

This time, Liam blushed and what the fuck had I  _missed._ What was it _like?_ Why was I blushing and why was Liam blushing and why was this blonde guy wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Liam? God. I needed a drink. I needed six drinks and a long night's sleep so I could attempt to sort out whatever the fuck was going on here.  

"Like what?" I asked quickly and Liam practically glared at me and it was pretty darn unnerving.  

"Nevermind," said Liam, cutting off his friend's response, "Zayn offered to help me carry up the ice, nice of him, innit?"  

The blonde was just openly gaping at me now, not saying anything for a moment. Then he stuck out his hand toward me, "name's Niall, this dope's flatmate. Good to meet you, Zayn. Maybe I'll see you around," 

There was some kind of inuendo twisted in his words, but fucked if I knew what it was. This whole thing was getting to me. I was kind of losing my damn mind—especially with the fact that I didn't have a fucking clue how to process what I was feeling. Especially the attraction. It was wildly unexpected, but also completely undeniable.  

Liam walked into the flat then, reaching out and taking the bags of ice from my arms. I now had no shield against the heat. I felt like I had a fever. Was I swaying? I felt unbalanced.  

"Like I said, you're more than welcome to stay," Liam was biting his bottom lip—nervously? 

"The frat party, though—" 

"Yeah," 

"Yeah," I responded like a stunned idiot.  

We stared at each other for a long moment. I was vaguely aware of the other people inside of his flat, shuffling around and taking glances at the weirdo standing in the doorway. I should have wanted to leave. I should have wanted to stuff my tail between my legs and run for the hills, but the message didn't register from my brain to my feet and I stayed planted exactly where I was, just gawking at Liam.  

My heart was literally hammering in my chest (which was something I thought people _exaggerated—_ but it was very real and very much happening to me).  

I was hot under his gaze. I felt like I was sweating buckets. I felt like I needed to vomit and purge myself of all these really very strange feelings.  

Finally, I managed to make my brain work. I ran a hand nervously through my hair and spoke mostly to my feet, "so I'm gonna head back to my flat," I knocked the toe of my shoe repeatedly against the floor behind me. I was so jittery. "So, it's, uh, 319 if you decide you want to come check out some wicked beer pong," 

He nodded, and there was a flash of disappointment in his eyes. I needed a minute to think though. I couldn't just stay here with him being a complete idiot. I had to collect myself. I had to figure this the fuck out before he thought I was a mental patient.  

Just as I began to turn and walk away, his hand fell on my arm and I swear to whatever god was real, that it actually burned me. It send a full electrical shock through my whole body. The shock ran from my neck to the tips of my toes and I was definitely on fire. But I definitely wanted to leave myself to burn. What a strange feeling to want to throw myself on to flames.  

"And Zayn?" He asked, and I turned back to him, reluctantly meeting his eyes. They were so sincere.  

"Yeah?"  

"If you decide you want something more low-key with no beer pong? Well Niall's best mate and my best mate are dating and their sisters are here. It's quiet. So if you change your mind, 521, yeah?" 

I was 100% certain that at least one of us was going to change their mind. I was leaning toward myself, but I needed to take a fucking breath and sort it out first. So I just nodded at him and smiled, "yeah," 

I turned away again, desperately needing to collect my thoughts, but again he broke my trance, "And Zayn?" I got the feeling he was saying anything he could to stop me from walking away, and what the fuck? Did Liam like to be on fire too? "Thanks for helping me," 

I turned back to him, "anytime, really," I tried to sound as sincere as his eyes looked. I smiled, proper and his answering smile made my stomach flip six or seven times before I quite literally swooned and nearly fell to my knees with the most lovely sick feeling in my stomach.  

"See you," I said before retreating toward the stairwell. I couldn't handle the lift. I couldn't think of the possibility of Liam standing in the doorway watching me while I waited ages for the doors to open. I just needed to breathe.  

 

I dashed through the front door of my flat, breathing heavily (probably should make a point not to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes before throwing myself into stressful situations) and Perrie's eyes met mine instantly. She knew something was up. How long had I even been gone? It felt like hours, honestly. So much had happened. She made a beeline for me, but I outran her. I slammed my bedroom door shut before she got to me and I turned the lock. I let out the air I didn't realize I was holding in my lungs and leaned my back against the door.  

 _Well, fuck._  

Something had happened. Something huge had happened and I didn't know how long it was going to take me to figure out what it all meant. Perrie was banging on the door instantly. 

"Zayn, what the fuck! Are you okay?" 

I leveled my breathing, "yeah, I just need a minute," 

That was an understatement. I needed a lot more than a minute, like maybe a therapist. Yeah a therapist would be incredibly helpful. But it was 1 a.m. on a Saturday. Fine time to have a major emotional crisis, _Zayn._   

I sucked in a long breath of air while I prepared to have a serious talk with myself. I was just gonna do it. I wasn't going to beat around the bush. I was going to lay out all the things I'd felt in the last thirty or so minutes.  

First of all, Liam. Second of all, _Liam._  

Well, this was going well. Alright. Might as well start from the top. I was attracted to him. Really attracted, and I didn't know that to do with that. Like emotionally or physically. I didn't know what I was doing. I'd never _liked_  a guy before. I mean, I'd had gay friends in uni, which I'd never given a second thought to. I'd never really been attracted to man. I'd kissed a few at parties, but it hadn't really done much for me. I wasn't closed to the idea, though, just cautious because a) what if it ended up being just like those other times for me? and b) because I didn't know what the fuck I was doing with those— _parts_. 

But it was there, wasn't it? Like just an instinctual thing. I hadn't experienced something this strong since—ever. It wasn't something I took lightly, it was just _a lot._ And I mean, I suppose the major question here was could Liam even be attracted to me? Was this weird electrical fire _mutual?_  It seemed unlikely that I'd be that lucky, but, Niall had made that comment?  

It was all really confusing and it was a lot to take in all at once. I'd walked out of my flat as a normal version of myself, destined for nothing but cigarettes, and now here I was smack dab in an existential crisis. I was attracted to a guy. Fine. Whatever. It was kind of how things went for me anyway. I never played anything by the rules and any box I'd ever been shoved in had caved in on me. So maybe this wasn't much of a departure. I'd spent 24 years being attracted to girls, maybe I was just bored of it now. Or maybe it was just Liam? 

Who knew.  

But I had two options here: I could stay sitting here with my back against my door, shutting out everything, including my insane chemistry with Liam, or I could do it the Zayn way. I could just blindly without any regard for consequences and see how it went.  

Fuck it. Fuck it all.  

I was on my feet again in half a second and I peeled open my bedroom door to find Perrie and Kim staring at me. Oh _fuck fuck fuck_. I'd left her standing on the balcony for who knew how long. I was kind of a shit person.  

"I've got to go," I said honestly, "something came up, I can't hang out," I told her truthfully.  

She nodded like she knew it was coming, like she expected me to be a proper arse. That sucked.  

Perrie's eyebrows were knit together as she looked at me, "where are you going?" 

"I met someone, I think?" I said it to her like it was a question. Maybe it still was, but I was damn well going to find out, "so make sure they don't trash the place. And for the love of god, cut the hands off of anyone who touches my paints," 

I brushed passed her then, not waiting for her reaction. I was practically running toward the stairwell. It was almost desperate. Well, actually it was desperate. I was desperate. I needed answers, I couldn't sit around and anylize for another second. I needed to explore. 

As I flew up the flight of stairs, I heard footfalls from above. I tried to collect myself so I didn't seem so panicked when the other person passed by. But when I got to the landing, I stopped short, seeing Liam standing at the next flight of stairs. He met my eyes, a smile playing on his lips, his eyes scrunched up and watching me. My stomach didn't do any acrobatics—it just fell directly out of my ass. I felt nervous all of a sudden, certain that Liam could see the desperation in the way I was ascending the stairs.  

He bounced quickly down the last flight, meeting me on the landing of the fourth floor. His eyes were perfectly aligned with mine and he stood about 3 centemetres from me. My breathing was heavy and I was suddenly really regretful that I hadn't brushed my teeth before panicking my way up to Liam's flat, because I was probably going to just go for it. I was just going to dive right in because that's how it did things.  

As I stood there thinking about how I was going to execute it—kissing a guy—Liam shocked the hell out of me and stole the idea directly from my head.  

His hand went to the back of my neck, pulling my face to his forcefully (and he was _strong_ ). Okay. That was different, I wasn't used to being bossed around, but as his other hand fell onto my lower back and he pulled my body against his, I realized that maybe that's what had been missing? His lips were just as soft as I had allowed myself to imagine they would be. He crushed them hard into me, his hand moving upward from my neck and tangling into my hair. He wasn't gentile. He didn't take it easy on me at all, and his lips were bruising against mine, his beard scraping against mine and his tongue parted my mouth with finesse. Finally, my body jolted to life and I reacted, my arms slinging around his neck and my tongue pressing into his mouth. It was hot—both because it literally felt like I was on fire, but also because it was probably the most appealing and sexy kiss I'd ever had in my life. It was so raw and rough and so fucking good. My head spun with the smell and the taste of him. 

And so this was a thing I was doing now. This was a thing that I'd maybe never stop doing ever again. Huh. Imagine that. 


End file.
